WHTRJ? Halloween Shttacular!
by MozaWesterburg
Summary: Framed for burning a school award banner, Madman makes the boys, as well as Shannon, trick or treat to make up for this years lack of charity fundraising, giving Robot an incentive to learn the ins and outs of human Halloween traditions, fast. But what does a scary costume mean to a Robot who most people find scary anyway? Feels/funny fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Thursday Night, October 27th**

"And that's another touchdown for The Davensfield Woodpeckers!"

The latest score update boomed from the speakers, wired to the the little announcer's box above the bleachers on the field outside Polyneux Middle School. The steel stadium seats, dotted with children of all shapes, colors and sizes, shouted in protest, as the students of the small suburban school watched as their home team was being demolished on their own turf, yet again.

"Come on, Rainbows!" The brawny, gray haired coach screamed from the sidelines at the top of his lungs, "Get. In. The. Game! Move it! Do I have to come out there and show you ladies how to play?!"

One of the Phys. Ed, Teacher, Mr. Workout, stood at his side and watched the brutal defeat of his boys. "We can't take another defeat," he declared, looking over his clipboard and flipping over to paper with the season's schedule. "We're never getting to state if the boys don't pick it up."

On the field, a clumsy pale yellow-jerseyed jock with a rainbow on the front of his chest collided with one of the red clad Woodpeckers. The Rainbow crashed, taking with him the Woodpecker, who incidentally was carrying the ball, which went soaring into the open arms of yet another Rainbow.

The bleachers lit up with encouraging cheers.

This Rainbow, stunned at first, took off for the goal line, knocking over two challenging Woodpeckers in his path. He was actually making good distance until one of the white laces of his left cleat came loose, flying frantically as he ran, flew underneath the bottom of the right, and as the spike of the shoe nailed the lace to the grass. The boy's foot shot forward with nowhere to go, and he stumbled to the ground near the bleachers, leaving the ball to be scooped up by a waiting Woodpecker.

One of his eighth grade pals on the second bottom row cupped his hands around his mouth. "Nice one, Jared!"

"Haha," chuckled the boy next to him as the Rainbow pulled his helmeted face from the clean cut fake grass "Next time, try double knotting the laces, buddy!"

The Rainbow looked in the direction of the voices and muttered a gruff, "Whoops," before he stood up.

"What's a' matter, Rain-BOWS?" the Woodpecker mocked. "Left your tutus on the warming bench?"

Back on the bleachers, the Polyneux students watched their football team in what looked like another inevitable defeat.

"Man, our football team blows this year," a short black haired by by the name of Cubey muttered, reluctant to be there in the first place when he could have been at the arcade.

"Hasn't been the same since ol' Clay left for Indiana," Mitch said back to him, trying to find two working batteries for his portable gaming device in a bag of used batteries.

And just above them, the next row up sat a silver skinned student in red with what looked like large, yellow light-bulb that made up the top of the skull. "The Rainbows appear to be struggling against the other team,"

"Tell me something I don't know," she said in her easily aggravated tone, arms folded over her chest. .

"I must say, it rather irks me that they believe they can get away with such rude name calling. Why, if I were assisting them, the Woodpeckers would be required to change their mascot," he said in his monotone, chopping one arm again the other, "to the Woodpulps."

"Oh yeah? If you're so sure, why didn't you sign up for varsity football?"

"Negative," he replied, folding his arms and turning away. "Team sports provide little if no educational not data value. I had my fun once, but I'll leave athletic activities to the humans."

Shannon tisked. "You're just afraid you'll blow it."

Robot frowned. He'd gotten used to brushing off most criticisms from humans, but when it came from her, it still kind of hurt. And as she was half the time, tonight, she was not in the best of moods today, but if Robot could keep his cool, he planned on changing that.

The coach checked his watch, then picked up the whistle hanging by his neck and blew. After letting the whistle drop to his chest, he stuck up one hand and covered it with the other. "Half time!"

While the Rainbows took a breather, and the disapproving fans took a break, Robot caught the main group of cheerleaders standing up from the bleachers on his right, down on the first level, and bounding onto the field.

He turned to Shannon, who seemed to have left her cheerleading uniform at home, with a curious look. "Pardon my retort, but shouldn't you be up there with them?"

Shannon rubbed her arm and looked away. "Yeah... about that... I'm kinda suspended from the team for the rest of the semester."

"Suspended? Whatever happened?"

Shannon rolled her eyes upward in the attempt to be nonchalant. "Well.. there was an incident where I may have pulled on some chatty girl's ponytail while we were doing the big pyramid... and consequently..." she curled in her fingers, bearing her teeth with a little, pained hiss,"... knocked down the whole formation."

"They kicked you off for an accident like that? That's terrible."

"Yeah," she rubbed her shoulder, "Let's call it an accident."

Robot replied with a silent look of bewilderment.

Shannon laughed nervously, a smile finally finding its way to her wire-bound face. "Quit looking at me like that would you?"

Pleased, Robot smiled back. He loved it when he could put a smile on her normally cranky face. He considered it an accomplishment. Then he got the satisfaction of watching her grin. His vision became fuzzy around the edges, as the rest of the world and its unimportance faded away, leaving her and only her.

While the cheerleaders did their routine down on the field, the Yogman boys ran around the field-dividing fence and ran under the bleachers unnoticed. With Lenny leading, they dropped to their knees and crawled to the lowest part of the seats. They stopped where, just above their heads, a familiar nemesis of theirs sat next to his "lovely" metal-ridden friend—neither of them aware of the twin's presence. Luckily for the boys, it was so loud both on the field and on the bleachers that they could get away with talking low and not being heard.

"Now the rule to a good prank is to be clever and original. The simple water balloon on the head does not do proper justice. We take no prisoners, but all is fair in love and war. And it is never wrong to go classic, or," he snickered, "Go dirty."

"Exibit A," Lenny held up his tool of choice for this particular prank, "The fake arm."

"Ooo," Denny said, eying the authentic-looking robot arm.

"Robot may think he's becoming quite the lady-killer, but let's see how he holds up to the advanced test." He smacked the working, flexing ball-wrist of the fake robot arm against his own palm a few times."Watch and learn, brother."

Lenny peeking through the spaces one final time to make sure the coast was clear—his narrow, stained white eyes penetrating the darkness of his blackened silhouette beneath the shadows of the steel bleachers, looking out through the space between Robot and Shannon's ankles. He pulled back and smiled at his brother, then carefully, he slipped the fake arm through the slit above their heads, and gently let the claws rest atop the red plaid skirt.

Shannon, who had been watching the game with a note of boredom and had begun to space off into her own mind didn't immediately take notice of the fake arm that had come to rest on the upper part of her prosthetic leg. However, it wasn't long before she felt the odd sensation of light metal inch up to her still-living thigh. Her upper eyelid slowly rose, her back straightened, she dropped her hands from her face and glanced down. With a silent gasp, she turned her gaze instantly at her metal neighbor in the bleachers, her brown eyes suddenly taking a blood-red shine.

"Why, you-!"

SMACK!

Robot's lose head spun on his chassis like a top. "Wait!" Robot cried in confusion. "Wh-Whoa! WHAAAA!"

The twins watched the scene unfold, trying uselessly to restrain themselves from laughing aloud at the risk of getting caught. It seemed like only an instant had passed between the start of the prank, to its very satisfying ending. Only a few moments ago, Shannon and Robot were sitting contently next to each other on the bleachers. The next, Shannon had seen the fake claw out of the corner of her eye, instinctively smacking it away before she could get a good look at it, and assuming the obvious conclusion of who it belonged to, took her revenge out on the innocent Robot—smacking him in hard in the face, and with an almost inhuman display of strength entirely formed of fury, throwing his lightweight metal body far out to the right side edge of the sandy baseball field in front of a gallery of confused, but pleasantly surprised students. He landed on his face, and the rest of his body uncurled soon after and fell flat with it, creating a cloud of dust with both impacts.

"-fresh little creep," she finished in a muttered hiss, brushing her palms against each other in a sweeping motion as if to get them clean.

Lenny carefully pulled the claw back underneath the bleachers, and turned from his view in between the seats back to his brother. "And now," he calmly stuck up his finger, "To rub in the pain and humiliation."

As carefully as they had entered, Lenny and Denny crawled back out from under the bleachers. They carried themselves nonchalant to the baseball field, where the restanding Robot was brushing the excess dust off of himself with the back of his claws.

"Well, well, well," Lenny mocked, "How the mighty have fallen."

The automaton was not nearly the same naïve creature he was when he first came to school. At least When it came to the Yogmans, he far passed his days of gullibility. Before even asking what they were talking about, Robot had a couple of questions for the sinister twins. "Where did you two come from? Weren't you banned from attending football games this season after painting over all the signs?"

"Please Robot," Lenny said, "You give my brother and I too much credit. Meanwhile, it's apparent that we are not the only kick-outs here."

"You two don't even know what happened," Robot said, glaring. "I was not 'kicked out.'"

"We were watching the game innocently from the sidelines when we heard a certain damsel cry out in distress—came to find out it was you that she shrieked about," He tried to appear impressed, and at the same time, ridiculing. "I can already hear the story spreading."

"What story?"

Lenny rubbed his knuckles into his shirt and gazed at them, keeping his eyes nonchalantly off of Robot. "So you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, they say. I really must hand it to you, Robot, it takes nerve to do what you did," he rolled his wrists in a circular motion. "In Junior High, and all.."

Robot slowly lowered his gaze. "What are you insinuating?" he asked softly.

Lenny gave Robot one of his trademark, maniacal smirks. "Come on now, Robot, you're smarter than that. We're the kind of lads that kill the ladies."

"I beg your pardon?"

"All I'm saying is that you and I know that a little touch, goes a long way, hehe..."

Robot wasn't as naïve as people tended to think by his usual behavior. He'd correctly caught on to Lenny's implication, gasped, and roared. "We robots are forbidden to lay unwarranted hands on humans. And furthermore," Robot said, tipping his head "I would never, ever disrespect Shannon like that."

"Sure thing, Robot," Lenny said. Denny, losing the battle within himself, suddenly unleashed a bundle of light chuckles. Lenny motioned for them to leave before Robot realized what his twin was laughing about. "Have a fun time this evening."

The automaton was mad, but until driven to the breaking point, he could douse his anger pretty quickly. After all, there were humans watching, and he didn't want to repeat another first day meltdown. It took him forever to earn their trust after that. As Robot continued to check himself for nicks and scratches, his best friend, Socks Morton, late arriving to the game, pulled onto the darkening horizon on his bike.

The curly haired blond with mild acne stopped four feet away from his robotic companion and dropped a foot from the pedal. "Hey I just saw the Yogmans slither off," he blurted all together in a single exhale. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," Robot said, avoiding his gaze.

Slowing down his breathing, Socks took notice of Robot's miffed expression. "Don't give me that with that look-What did they say to you?"

Even though the human was his best friend, Robot felt it wasn't right to burden Socks with every one of his problems.

But Socks thought of himself, Mitch and Cubey as the guardians who looked after a sometimes helpless Robot when no one else would.

While Socks himself was a little guilty sometimes for being preoccupied at the times it sounded that Robot could really use him, such as his numerous run-ins with the Yogmans, who Socks had never got a chance to warn Robot of before he met them.

Socks didn't give himself credit for being better at identifying it when a seemingly no-hint Robot was having more personal problems, thereby making him more suitable for helping him out in an emotional crisis. This was nearly as important as what Mitch and Cubey did, since Robot's emotions did run out of control when he couldn't handle certain situations.

"Never mind it," Robot finally said. "It's fine."

"You sure?" Socks asked, still standing with the bike in between his legs, jutting the front wheel slightly to the right and pointing behind himself "'Cause I can bike down the hill after them right now and make them walk home with their underwear over their hats-all you've got to do is give the word-"

"No, that's okay. They aren't worth it."

Socks looked the other way awkwardly. "Alright." He gazed at the grass beneath his tire. "So, you heading back to the game?"

Robot turned and took a quick look at the field. "I suppose… though I suppose I'll have to find a new seat..."

Socks hopped off of the seat of his bike and trailed behind him with his bike by his side.

But even as they watched the rainbows make a touchdown, Robot's mind was nowhere close to the game. Every time he tried to calm down, frustrated thoughts found their way back, blocking his concentration.

It wasn't just about their plotting to steal his brain that bugged him. Now the Yogmans did just about everything to annoy him, from challenging his status as the smartest kid in every class (the few that they actually attended) to their stupid, random pranks. Robot was sure they would go out of their way just to make his day a smidgen more unpleasant.

He didn't know what he ever did to make the Yogmans—Lenny especially, being the mastermind behind the hazings—hate him so much. But even as Robot grew wiser about them, they still found a way to abuse him.

It just gave Robot all the more reason to stay wary about the humans. It was the Yogmans and a few others like them who kept Robot incapable of really trusting the whole species, as badly as he wanted it wasn't just the Yogmans who made him feel unwanted. Just when he was beginning to feel assimilated, something came along to make him feel like an outsider again. How could he trust them when they wouldn't even acknowledge him as one of their own? When would this ostracization stop?

Robot could shake his head and stand tall throughout their tauntings, but it was going to take a big change before this pointless cycle of egoistic build up and fall down would draw to a close.

* * *

 **The Next Day...**

"I have heard about Halloween from books," Robot told his human lunch companions. "What usually occurs on this day around here? I'm afraid I didn't time to learn much about the holiday last year." Robot asked.

With the Harvest Dance and its related issues looming over his mind, Robot hardly noticed Halloween come and go last October. This year he paid the dance itself no mind-he set in his mind that wasn't even going to try asking Shannon to the dance-at least not after the events of last night. If he was lucky, they might share a dance again by circumstance.

Yeah, right.

"Oh, it's cool," Socks said. "On Halloween night, kids go out in scary costumes and travel from house to house, collecting candy and toys from the neighbors for their own private stash. It's the easiest way to get a goldmine of sweets without inheriting a candy factory—if you're dedicated enough."

"The coolest part was," Cubey added, "They'd let you wear your costume to school."

"No, the coolest part is seeing all the girls in their costumes now."

"Oh, yeah," Cubey said. "Witches, devils, and kitty cats,"

"Ooooh my..." Socks crooned.

It was a weird transitional time in the boys lives where they had barely gotten over the nostalgia of collecting candy door to door, and had just started to understand the appeal of costumes made for adults, particularly females. And it made Robot's attempt to understand the holiday all the more confusing. "Explain to me: What does Halloween celebrate exactly?"

The three boys all looked at each other. "Huh. That's a good question…" Socks started.

"Oh no, here comes double trouble," Mitch whispered to the gang.

Oh, not the Yogmans again. Not twice in one week, Robot thought exhaustedly. Usually the Yogmans slithered off after an appearance not to be seen for weeks. Robot hadn't prepared himself to deal with them again.

But instead came a perhaps more intimidating duo: Shannon Westerburg, and her often overprotective best friend, Pam Simon. They carried their lunch trays right passed the boy's table.

"Hi girls," Socks called to them in a friendly manner.

"Perverts!" Pam shouted over her shoulder, taking Shannon's arm and pulling her away from the boys.

"Uh, OK..." Socks replied, pulling his waving hand down awkwardly.

"Um, who were they talking about?" Mitch asked.

Strangey enough, both Cubey and Robot suddenly started stammering. "Oh, probably just nothing-"  
"Crazy girls," Cubey laughed.

"Affirmative," Robot said weakly, looking down at his iron based lunch of nuts and bolts. Instead of finding anything odd about Cubey's stammering, he was thinking about how long it was going to take to get Shannon just to say 'hi' to him again. Months of wearing her down again down the drain.

Later that day, out in the hallway, Madman was strolling his way to the staff lounge when he paused in front of the Sport's Trophy case, humming when he saw how dusty it had gotten, and used the end of his tie to wipe off a small portion of the glass. The awards in this case included the Rainbow's one and only regional football award, a banner given to the team from the early 1950s.

"Oh, Kenny Hughes," he said, remembering the quarterback that year, "You were a true legend in your day. Polyneux football just hasn't been the same since you left. These kids today just don't have the same fighting spirit they used to. They've grown," he hissed, "Soft." He dropped his tie from his fingers. "Oh, but I suppose I should stop living in the past now, shouldn't I?" he said.

A rumble for the ball in his head were suddenly interrupted by a rumble in his stomach. "Oh, getting hungry. I'd better hurry down to the cafeteria before all the corn dogs are snatched up!" he said, scurrying down the hallway.

Coming in the other direction, Robot, carrying a stack of books from the school's library, was educating himself on the details of Halloween. Nothing to distract his depression like data. He managed to read a book while carrying five more in his other arm, and carry on a conversation with Cubey as he walked. "You see Cubey, Halloween originated as an ancient Celtic holiday once known as Samhain which celebrated both the spirits of the deceased, and the start of the harvest. It wasn't until the 600th century A.D. that it was officially renamed 'All Saints Day' to honor hallowed religious martyrs, and thus was also called 'All-Hallows' eve."

Cubey was a little offput at Robot's immediate genius on the subject. "Robot, an hour ago you didn't even know what Halloween was, now you're broadcasting the whole story like some history documentary they'd make us watch in class."

"I'm sorry Cubey, but I am a robot," he informed of the obvious, "And was designed for recording information-and playing it back, too," he winked. The sound of a familiar female voice cut Robot off almost immediately, and he spun his head around to see his crush approaching for yet the second time that day- this time without her overbearing companion. "Hm," Robot said, "Perhaps I could strike up a new haste free conversation with Shannon with this subject of Halloween that has all the humans so intrigued.

He handed a bewildered Cubey his stack of books-which the boy only then, unfortunately, realized they were immensely heavy-and made his way up to Shannon with a spring in his mechanical step. "Greetings, Shannon unit."

"What," she asked, "Do you want?"

Robot gulped. Maybe this was a bad idea. "I was just," he thought to reshape his question, "Well, curious about your planned activities on the night of Halloween."

"I'm going to Roger Prattman's party, duh, like the rest of the seventh grade," she emphasized, slamming her locker door.

From around the corner, Socks and Mitch joined them. "Uh oh, what's Robot doing?" Socks asked.

"Aagh, crashing like a rock, that's what he's doing!" Cubey said, "OOMPH!" exclaiming as the books finally dragged him down and he slammed onto the floor.

"Should we help him?" Mitch asked.

"I kinda don't want to get involved…" Socks responded.

Coming back the other direction with a plate of corn dogs, Madman hummed a '50s radio tune as he headed back to his office. But upon turning his head affectionately towards the trophy case once more, his eyes bulged out of their sockets.

The case was there, but the one and only huge banner from the state championship was gone.

Madman dropped his plate of food on the floor and ran to the nearest fire alarm, where he smashed the plastic covering with his fist and yanked down the lever. A klaxon horn started, and all the students in the hallway froze and saw the red fire light flashing.

But because Polyneux was such a poorly designed school, the horn sent kids and teachers running for the nearest exit, only to find the doors locked, iron bars slamming down over the windows. Fearing they were going to burn alive, the entire school was sent into panic-all except for Robot and the boys, who seemed to be immune to the insanity.

"Silence, everyone!" Madman shouted into the intercom after some time. "This school has been put under emergency lock down. Clancy and I have already set in action the search plan. No backpack or locker will go unexamined. Nobody leaves until the thief and the lost item are found and replaced!"

"But it's already 3PM!" one random student shouted, causing the rest of his peers to complain.

"I repeat!" Madman shouted over the intercom back in his office, banging his fist into his desk, "Nobody leaves until the lost item-"

"Um, chief…?"

Madman's head swiveled to the far left. Clancy was pointing behind Madman's shoulder, outside the window to the flag pole.

The American flag had been replaced by the missing Rainbow colored banner. And it was on fire.

"Jumping Jane and Tarzan!" Madman shouted, tugging on his short, black hair. He violently pushed his way out of the office, shoving his secretary, Mrs. Wilson, and knocking her against his own desk, shoving his way through the children as they, too, scrambled out of the auditorium and towards the locked exit. With his seemingly superhuman strength that appeared in moments of intense emotion, Madman smashed the lock he himself set on the door and lead the pool of the student body outside. With Clancy trailing behind, Madman yanked furiously at the cord, bringing the banner down from the top of the flagpole, and stomping on it to put out the flames. Clancy produced a fire extinguisher, but while the flame had already been put out, it just covered Madman in a white foam. "C-C-clancy! T-that," he coughed, "That's enough!"

Now a mess, Madman stepped off of the foam and scorch covered banner and picked up the remains.

"Rival school pranks are getting reaaaaaaal tough," Clancy observed.

"An oddly specific and devilishly thing for a rival school to do for a prank," Madman noted, narrowing his eyes. He could bawl at the pitiful site, were he not suddenly full of suspicion. When he examined the charred remains of the banner, he noticed something oddly specific about the burning pattern on it. "Hmm… circular precision laser burns… oily brown claw marks... " he narrowed his eyes further. "...red and black paint chips !"

Madman tossed down the rag and stomped off, pushing Clancy out of his way. In the doorway, Robot and friends were some of the last kids to escape the school before Madman came back. These friends included Shannon, who was currently alone with them due to Robot's unbreakable joint at the hip, and Pam abandoning her due to being too creeped out by Cubey.

"The heck was that about?" Mitch asked the guys.

"Who knows? Madman's a-"

A large shadow cast over them made the boys and Shannon freeze with intimidation. Madman leaned over them.

"All five of you, in my office at once!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Now, what do you boys have to say for yourselves?"

Robot, Socks, Shannon, Mitch and Cubey were forced to sit hip-to-hip on the narrow, low-legged bench in the principal's office.

"Uh… it wasn't us?" said Mitch, breaking the silence.

"That's it? That's your best excuse for almost ruining a Rainbow prized award, in place since 1953?"

"But Principal Madman, it wasn't us!" Robot repeated Mitch's complaint. "We were set up!"

Madman shook his head. "Why do they always try that one? You four are going to pay for this." He leaned in close to their faces. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't call the police this instant."

"Principal Madman," Robot said, "I assure you that if you take the evidence to the police, you will find neither mine nor my companion's fingerprints anywhere on the remains of that treasured award."

"I would take that into consideration," Madman scowled, "If you had fingerprints to examine."

Robot looked down at his print-less fingers, sighing. Now there was no way to prove they didn't do it. But maybe he could come up with a way to bide the time until he could prove their innocence. "Isn't there any way we can make good for this without phoning the police?"

This was an interesting offer-an offer from Jones-that the principal had to think about. There could be something a lot more satisfying in it for him than having the boys hauled off to juvy. "Hmmm..."

Madman looked around the room, then his eyes fell to his desk.

"Ah-HA" He grabbed a small cardboard box off of the side of his desk. "I'm sure you boys are familiar with UNICEF, the global organization collecting money for needy children. The school has been advertising students to participate in the volunteer program on Halloween night for years, to no avail, and the school board has been laying on the pressure. However, since you boys are so… enthusiastic about this Halloween business, the four of you will go out on Trick or Treat night to gather donations for the cause, and set a good example for your peers."

"What?! You're making us Trick-or-Treat?" Socks said with bloodshot eyes.

"Show the seasonal spirit, won't you?" Madman sneered. "It is for a good cause, after all."

"Well, I hope you guys have fun with that," Shannon said, standing up and heading to the door, "Pam and I still need to pick out our party costumes-"

Madman raised his arm. "Not so fast, Ms. Westerburg. This concerns you just as well."

"What?!" She spun around, her mouth hanging open. "I didn't do anything!"

"I'm finding a peculiar pattern of your presence whenever the boys strike trouble, and I've never been a gender biased principal. You're going with them tomorrow night," he pointed at her.

She stomped her right foot on the ground. "But that's so unfair!"

"Well, I hope you have fun with that," Cubey teased, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Now, I can't force you five to go it as a group, that's your call. However, by Monday morning, I expect you all back here to pool your profits together and reach the total set by the district goal-Five hundred dollars."

"Five hundred dollars!" The five shouted.

"I think it will be a very educational experience," he smiled wickedly. "One that I may in fact instill next year on the entire eighth grade class—" he got down on his knee to meet their eye level—"IF you fail to meet my requirements. You're dismissed."

As soon as they left Madman's office, the complaints rang out.

"We can't seriously be doing this," said Mitch.

"How else are we supposed to get five hundred dollars to Madman by Monday morning?" asked Cubey.

"We can't go trick or treating, we'll be the laughing stocks of Polyneux!" exclaimed Mitch back..

"But how else are we supposed to get that money? I don't know about you, but all my allowance went to the arcade," Cubey said.

"Yeah, I'm broke, too," Socks said, pulling his pockets inside out.

"Me too," Mitch confessed.

"I am low on funds also," Robot said.

Then the boys all turned to Shannon. She narrowed her eyes. "What are you looking at me for? Do you think I get a five hundred dollar allowance?"

There was a pause. "Do you?" asked Cubey curiously.

"What-No!" Shannon shouted.

"Alright, alright," Socks got between them, "What if we asked our parents to help us out?"

"Are you crazy?" asked Cubey.

"After the last time I told my parents I got into trouble? I'd get grounded at the very mention of currency," said Robot.

"Same here. Parents, out," Mitch confirmed.

"So what do we supposed to do?" asked Shannon.

The four boys stood around and thought, while Shannon tapped her foot impatiently.

At last, Socks broke in. "What if we just did it?"

"What?"

"I mean, it'll only be a couple of hours, and-"

"A couple hours? Each house will only give us a couple of quarters, maybe a dollar if we're lucky? We'll be up all night knocking on doors!"

"Not if we use our good old special route," he winked at Mitch and Cubey, leaving Robot to ponder.

"Give it up, Socks," said Mitch.

"Yeah, come on," Cubey agreed, "Who in the seventh grade is gonna be trick-or-treating?"

"The ones who got little brother or sister to chaperone or something, that's who."

The boys grew quiet. "We were… really good at collecting candy." Mitch recalled.

"And we can get around faster with our bikes!" Socks insisted. Who actually says no to giving money to the needy when they come to your door? What have we go to lose?"

"Roger's party, that's what! His parents are out of town, and he's got a pool, dude! We'll be branded as the biggest losers in school if we don't make an appearance."

"We can't miss this party, dudes."

"Then we can't split up," Robot rationalized. "Assuming that every house is only willing to give us one donation…"

"If they give us anything," Mitch said.

"Yes, that's a given. We'll work as a team. Five of us will knock on the doors of five different houses at once—not at the same time. If we end up crossing houses, the people inside will just assume it's for a different group."

"That… that's actually smart."

"I'm in."

"Me too."

"Three."

"Shannon?"

She made a sour face. "Let's just hurry up and get to Roger's house faster," she said as she took one of the free cardboard donation boxes from the table outside Madman's office.

* * *

During passing period after lunch, Robot gazed at himself in the green tiled, boy's bathroom mirror by the cafeteria.

Data banks have collected so far that Halloween is represented by goblins, ghosts, and various other monsters and creatures from ancient and urban myths and folklore, he thought.

"Hmm..." he put a claw to his chin, "What would be a suitable costume for me?"

As he pondered and sifted through his memory banks for ideas, an abrupt squeak from behind Robot broke him from his reverie. He turned from the mirror, looking to the door, with surprise to discover it wavering in and out of the doorway, but no one had entered...

… or so he thought, until the sound of footsteps brought his eyes down to a shaggy, teddy bear soft haired little boy with deep blue eyes like the ocean. Approaching Robot slowly in a pink striped shirt and pair of blue overalls, the human held close to his stomach his tiny, bent fingers, and gazed at Robot with a wet, open mouth, blank expression.

Isn't that human too young to attend junior high school?

His timid disposition towards Robot told him that the human had never encountered him before, but surely, that couldn't be a new student. Although Robot couldn't talk—he was pretty short for his age, and he knew of quite a few humans students who were even shorter than he was. Few of them were even girls. However, Robot analyzed the chubby facial characteristics and soon determined that the child was so short, not because of a lack of growth spurts, but because it was a toddler.

Robot heard a mature female voice outside. "Oh, dear... oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear..." bringing his eyes back up to the door.

"Huey? Sweetie?" Closer to the door now, Robot recognized the voice well, "Huey, please come out!" Ms. Rucoat stuck her head into the boys room, her eyes squeezed shut with her hand over them. "Oh, please tell me there's no one in here."

"Ms. Rucoat?" Robot said.

"Robot Jones? Is everybody decent in there?

"It's only me, and... "Robot gazed at the small child oddly.

The English teacher slid into the bathroom alongside the wall, like a spy breaking in. "Oh, thank goodness, it's just you, Robot," she carefully lifted her hand from her eyes. "I was afraid I'd have to get Clancy to come in here for me."

"Excuse me, but if I might ask, who are you looking for?" he asked.

"Oh, it's 'Bring Your Child To Work' day at my son's preschool, and I lost track of him when I was getting his lunch. I thought I saw him wonder into here-" she opened her eyes by this time, and they fell on the small child. "There's my snooker pie!" the elated teacher cried."You had me worried there—Huey?" she said, suddenly frowning as she noticed the strength of his grip on her leg. "What's wrong?"

Robot assumed that something in the stall must have scared the child. It actually wasn't unusual for someone, a prankster, to leave something like a big rubber spider on the flush pole as a surprise for the next guy standing up to flush. Robot had found one of those himself once—a little mouse-but he knew automatically that it was fake, and he picked it up and took with him as a consolation prize, to think of something to do with them later.

Drop it into the air vents for the Yogmans to find, perhaps.

But as he traced the toddler's line of sight, he felt the sudden felt the weight of his metal chassis when he realized that the boy's fearful eyes were not on the stall, but on him.

The robot.

Apparently, the child's mother had noticed the same. Ms. Rucoat glanced at her son, then at Robot, then back at the toddler with the lethal grip on her calf. "Oh, no, no, no, Huey," She bent down to stroke his chin and the side of his face, "Robot Jones is a friendly robot."

Not daring to jeopardize that claim, with his feet nailed to the floor, Robot held up his artificial black hand and waved, a nervous smile on his face.

"See, he's nice," she said, having managed to pry the boy's hands from herself. He seemed to be relaxing.

Unfortunately for them, this was a false sign of hope. The little boy grimaced, his lips growing, bottom lip wobbling. Tears had formed in his eyes, a glossy sheen covering the whites.

And before either of them knew it, Huey was running to the exit, shoving his way past the legs of a tall seventh grade boy who had pushed open the door.

A teen who had just entered watched the scene unfold with bewilderment, his eyes suddenly landing on the teacher. "Whoa! Female in the men's room!" the youngster said, grabbing the handle and speeding out the door.

Ms. Rucoat came right after him, grabbing the door before it slid shut and standing in the doorway. "Huey! Huey, come back!" she threw her hand to her face and called down the hallway, but the child was and nearly gone. With a tired sigh, she dropped one of her arms and clung to the side of the doorway with the other. Just as she prepared to go after the toddler caught her attention and

Robot's face sulked, and he slowly tipped his head down as though he were a dog, caught doing a bad thing. "I... I'm sorry, I..."

The teacher, her hand pressed to her forehead, suddenly whipped her head around as she realized that this accident yielded two victims. "Oh, Robot, it's not your fault," she went up to him and sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder, "You couldn't help it."

Hearing those exact words, in the order she put them, Robot gazed up at her, mouth open with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. at the usually rather caring of the human teacher's capability of insensitivity to him in this situation. She was really one of the nicer members of the faculty at the school to Robot—the kindest, probably. it stunned him that she could suddenly become so insensitive to him, like all the rest of the teachers. Even though she felt compelled to reassure the automaton of his innocence, Robot couldn't help but feel that it sounded more like the forced response of a teacher witness than a considerate adult who truly felt for him.

Ms. Rucoat picked up her lose, light autumn-print skirt and dashed from the boys room, leaving Robot at the sink with his back to the mirror where she found him.

The ignorant teacher's comment really didn't help. In fact, it set of a new train of thought—that last comment in particular contradicted her earlier claim that this accident wasn't his fault.

It was true. Robot had no control over how humans, of any ages, reacted to him. If they showed an irrational fear for him, it was perfectly normal—doing as normal humans did. Even if Robot purposely did nothing to encourage humans to be afraid of him, he still succeeded on the occasion to turn people away from him for the reason of how he looked, how he sounded, and whatever else made him him.

Robot had had some bad experience with younger children in the past, on the seldom times he saw them, but he still couldn't recall a time where he had scared a human so bad before. It was something different to run and scream—that happened nearly every day, but there was no doubt he would have remembered if he made a little child cry. The feeling was awful. It made him feel horrible and helpless, because he knew that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it except simply not be there.

She's right... I can't help it.

Head down, eyes tired, Robot marched to the door, retreated to the habitual self-assuring mindset-the one that tried to tell him how lucky he was to be a robot in an ape world-that made him feel isolated from the rest of the student body once again.

Up in the corner of the bathroom sat a small air vent, a pair of sickly, narrow yellow eyes pierced the darkness.

"Well... isn't that intriguing?" Rubbing his hands together, Lenny Yogman, who had been watching Robot from inside the air vent, chuckled wickedly. "Heh-heh-heh..."

When Robot got home later that day, he opened the front door and slipped in quietly. Usually, he'd give a shout to his parents to let them know he was home, but today he couldn't find the voice to project. Quietly, he slipped past the living room, only to encounter his mother in the hall on his way to the escalator.

"So, how was school today?" she asked.

"Alright."

"Any Data Logs to input?"

"Not today," he said, ignoring her gaze and starting up the elevator switch.

Mrs. Jones tipped her head to the right. "Is there something you would like to discuss, Little Robot?"

"Not really."

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

"There is nothing bothering me," he said, acknowledging her with eye contact for the first time since he walked in, his lids narrow.

The female robot was growing impatient with her son's lack of respect. "Robot, do I have to get Jack in here to get you to talk?"

"Oh, lovely. Threaten me with the guy held together by staples."

"Robot-"

"Just don't even call me for dinner," he thundered up the elevator two steps at a time, not even waiting for it to take him

"Robot!" Mrs. Jones exclaimed, surprised that Robot would take such a tone with her.

"And stop saying my name, just stop it!" he called down below before he rounded the corner and took to his bedroom.

Mrs. Jones was puzzled. She'd never seen him like this before. Mad and evasive, sure, but never this angry.

Once safely shut away in his room, Robot leaned against the door, folding his arms, a pout on his face. But when his face faltered, his knees gave way and he sank to the floor, perched on his legs, burying his face in his gloved palms.

Alone, Robot found a few peaceful moments to himself to think, but it wasn't long before Mrs. Jones was there. But for once, as opposed to whirling herself inside, she chose using the side of her pump to softly tap on the outside of his door. Like a regular mother.

"Robot, why won't you tell me what happened?"

Because you wouldn't get it, Robot thought miserably. You don't understand what it's like to associate with creatures that are afraid to look at you on a daily basis, even if they won't admit it.

"Won't you at least let me get you a refreshment?"

"I'm not thirsty," he replied. "Thank you." It was a lie. So much of a lie, actually, that his fuel tank make a thundering noise in protest. But he couldn't go out there and let her attempt to worm out the truth from him.

Mrs. Jones didn't reply. Didn't even say 'Okay,' or 'I will talk to you later.' Robot was surprised to just hear her roll away. He folded his arms, closed his eyes and sighed.

He knew some humans took to him and his parents with fear, but he didn't really realize up until that day just how bad the problem was. He knew from past experience that his family could make people duck behind desks and couches, even make next door neighbors move away, but to scare innocent little kids? It broke his heart at the thought that he could accomplish that so much easier than he'd once thought. It wasn't the same as scaring teens and adults, because even if he accidentally did something to scare them, he could still blame part of their fear of him on their own ignorance. Humans of a certain age should learn after meeting him that he meant absolutely no danger to anyone, and that even if he had his meltdowns, he was still a conscious, considerate being and because of that, he was perfectly harmless most of the time. But when he scared little human children who knew no better, who had no sense to know that Robot was a thoughtful creature that cared about how he affected the people around him and not just a self-moving piece of machinery, it didn't just embarrass him, it made him feel like a menace. A burden to society.

He picked up a teen magazine sitting on his floor-one he'd been using to absorb more information on human culture-which when he flipped to the back, contained an article on popular media related to Halloween. "Well, at least for one day, maybe I get to show the world that they are scarier things than me."

Minutes later, the door opened, without Robot's consent, and the Jones' reluctant, nosy and sloppy border bot, Jack, stuck his head inside. "Yo, you're mother said you were up here. Something up, cube-head?"

"Not anymore," Robot announced with a grin. "If you'd be willing to sport a small box around your chest and play mannequin for me."

* * *

 **We're getting into the mushy, feel-y territory here with Robot getting all sappy about his appearance. Maybe I went a little overboard describing the scene in the bathroom, but even now looking back on it, I still feel that Robot, for being a conscious creature and being as sensitive to how others treat him as he is, could still have insecurities about his looks and that would still keep his character intact.**

 **One way of looking at why Robot eventually turns on the human race is how awful they make him feel as a kid, even if they don't mean to. Kinda like how Shannon makes him feel terrible, even if (in most cases), she doesn't intend to make him feel that way.**

 **And this insecurity sub plot is leading up to something later in the story, so the sappy paragraphs do have a purpose.**

 ** _Whatever Happened to Robot Jones?_ © Greg Miller & Cartoon Network**


	3. Chapter 3

**Monday, October 31st: Halloween**

Before the start of first period at Polyneux Middle School, he three boys, mid conversation, turned away from their lockers at the sound of familiar hydraulic joints, Socks gasping.

Their short robot friend's eyelids were painted black, with a smudge over the top to create the illusion of a unibrow. Over his lightbulb was a rectangular black fabric cover that wrapped around his head like a fake hairline. And among the oddities, he was wearing clothes, something he rarely ever did-a beat up black jacket and pants, to be exact.

"... rah." was all he had to say, pincers pointed upward in a very non-threatening threatening way.

Then silence.

"Dude, is that homemade?" asked Socks with a snicker.

"I like it," Cubey blurted.

"Dig," quickly said Mitch.

Robot slid into the seat next to Socks. "Nice costume, Robot," his best friend nodded. "Not bad for a first timer."

"Thanks. I created the pattern from a periodical," Robot told him. "I guess I found a use for Home Ec. after all."

"So we're agreed, then?" Socks asked the group. "We'll meet a Robot's house at 6:30—his neighborhood has that one house on the corner on the end that I think used to give out king size candy bars. That'll give us two and a half hours—plenty of time to trick or treat before we swing by Roger's place for the rest of the party."

"Sounds good to me," Cubey said. "Mitch and I are sneaking over to the drugstore during lunch to grab our costumes."

"Sorry you guys didn't think ahead like me," Socks grinned. "I've been planning my costume for months in advance."

"What costume would take that long?" asked Robot.

* * *

"For the last time since September, I said 'no', Socks!" Shannon said slamming her locker.

It was later that day in the hallways when Socks approached Shannon with his proposal. "Come on, if I don't have someone dress up as the queen and stand beside me, my zombie-mummy costume is going to look ridiculous!"

"Well, that's too bad," she crossed her arms over her chest, "because I'm not going walking around the neighborhood all night in rags and sandals!"

Socks sighed, then turned to his short robotic buddy for assistance. Robot thought quickly. "But Shannon, Cleopatra was the feminine legend. "

"Did you say Cleopatra?" she asked thoughtfully.

To demonstrate, he projected a picture of the Egyptian queen on a white wall from his eye lenses. "Of course. What more notorious symbol of feminine power was there? Why, her beauty was revered around the world, and continues to be an icon to this very day."

Shannon smiled. "She is awfully pretty.

"Making it the perfect fit for a lady such as yourself," Robot grinned, slyly shutting his projection off.

The girl pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear as she thought it over . "You really think I could pull her off?"

"Absolutely," he grinned.

Socks nudged him appreciatively in the shoulder. "Thanks for the save. I owe you a favor."

"Can you make me into Mark Antony?"

"Who?" asked Socks.

Robot sighed. "Never mind."

Next to Robot, Socks had the next kindest attitude about Shannon of the group. He'd known Shannon even longer than Mitch and Cubey. As Robot understood it, they had gone to preschool together and moved up through school together, stuck in the same classrooms grade after grade. Not often did people move out of their suburb, yet Shannon was one of the few acquaintances from so long ago that Socks had been able to call on for that long. And since discovering that Robot had the hots for her, Socks had tried especially hard to be nice to Shannon and even, as of late, incorporate her into a couple of their outings if he thought it was a good opportunity for Robot to get close to her. He was the automaton's best friend, and he wanted him to be happy.

Besides, Socks wasn't sure what she would be doing that night if she wasn't coming with them, but if it were going to Roger's costume party, he had no doubt that she'd be going alone, or with her best and most reliable friend of the lot, Pam Sullivan. And for whatever reason, things didn't seem to go in Robot's favor when Pam was around.

Mitch and Cubey came up to them.

"How'd the costume hunt go?" Socks asked.

"Horrible." Mitch sighed.

"By the time we got to the drug store, all that was left was a red cape and green paint," Cubey said, showing their friends the contents of the green bag. "And it ate up the last of our money!"

"Why don't you do like Robot and make your own?" Socks said.

"Yeah, with what?" Mitch asked.

Robot scanned his friends as they stood in front of him. "Well, with my optical projector, and the data I have thus far collected on the holiday, I believe I can determine a fitting costume for the both of you." He pulled up a scanned happy picture of Cubey to present to the group. "For example, Cubey, based on your genetic makeup, you may consider fashioning an affordable Dracula costume."

"You think I could be a vampire?" Cubey asked with a pleased smile.

"With a practical joke store pair of fangs, maybe," Robot said. "And Mitch, if you let me borrow that green paint and some hair gel, I think I can make you into a pretty convincing fusion of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

"Huh," Mitch said. "Maybe tonight won't bite so bad."

In Madman's office, however, an interesting bargain was taking place between their totalitarian principal and the snakes from the rafters.

"I need you to keep an eye on Morton, Freeman, Cubinacle, Westerburg, and most of all, Jones. As my most trustworthy A++ students, and my leads in the AV department, I'm enlisting you two to look after those five-make sure they are really earning that money fair and square."

"Leave it to us, Principal Madman," Lenny shook his hand in a gentlemanly agreement, "We'll make sure everything goes on according to plan."

Just as soon as the door to Madman's office closed behind him, Lenny and Denny broke out into snickers. "Oh, it couldn't be any easier," Lenny said. "Fate has dealt us a royal flush, my brother. We'll make it so miserable for them that they'll either be trick or treating all night or go home empty handed." He rubbed his hands together. "Then when Robot is stuck in mandatory detention for the rest of middle school, you and I will reclaim our titles as rulers of the school!"

* * *

The charming, light-hearted electric doorbell music of the automaton's home sounded, and Robot, in costume, dashed out from his room. "I'll get it!" he gladly announced to his family.

From the top of the escalator, he hopped onto the rail guard and slid down using his slick cape as a sled, pouncing off at the bottom easily onto his feet and making a dash for the front room.

When the door flew up, Robot's eyes widened. Standing on the front walk, his crush was with a long, thin, white sleeveless gown, gold painted silver jewelry, including bracelets, necklaces, and a crown over her ebony braided hair wig. On her one remaining human foot, she wore an orange sandal—on her face, one of her typical, bored frowns under a heavy layer of eye makeup. All together, the outfit attempted to create the illusion of ancient Egyptian royalty.

"What's you're problem?" she asked, noticing a smile sprout on the robot's face.

Robot placed one arm level to his chest, pulled aside his cape with his other hand, and bowed. "Forgive me, my queen, for my impudence, but thy beauty hath stunned me."

"Are you gonna stand there and patronize me?" she asked with her hand on her hip, "Or are you gonna let me in?"

"Of course, of course," he said, making way for Shannon to walk in. "Thine company is mine pleasure."

Shannon groaned, squeezed her eyes shut while Robot shut the door. "I can't believe I got pulled into this," she muttered under her breath.

"Oh, it won't be so bad, Shannon," Robot said, returning to his innocent, optimistic speech, "At least we will all be with each other," he said, leaning forward romantically.

To his surprise, Shannon suddenly picked him up by the collar of his costume, pulled in within inches of her face, and looked him in the eye with a menacing seriousness.

"Now you listen up and listen good, " she murmured to him under a breath of hostility, "I don't know what they taught you was appropriate in your… robo-training or whatever, but in case you didn't know or forgot, girls do not like to be touched."

"B-But Shannon, I ne-"

"Ever!"

Robot gulped. He'd never seen her like this before—her low, threatening tone frightened him.

"I said I would go with you tonight because we're study partners, and up until the other night, I believed you had some sort of manners, but get cheeky again and I'll rip both your arms right off your shoulder joints and use them to tie you to the flagpole. Understand?"

He held up his finger weakly, trying to get her attention. In a wimpy voice, he muttered, "Shannon-"

"UNDERSTAND?!"

Robot's face crunched as her voice sent rippling aches to his antennae. "Erm... yes ma'am."

Shannon smiled from under her makeup. "Good."

With that, she dropped him flat on the floor. As she went to check the door, Robot rubbed his backside with his glove, watching her with narrowed eyes. "Hmph," he muttered, noting her rudeness. Shannon had gotten into habit of treated him like a dog, and while he put up with it because he liked her, Robot had his moments where he sincerely wondered if their relationship had anything positive for him at all.

The doorbell rang again.

"Hang tight," she told him over her shoulder. "I've got this one."

Shannon approached the door just as the doorbell rang yet again.. She hit the button and waited for the door, and was soon greeted by the first trick-or-treater of the Jones house—Socks. He stood in a zombie costume, topped with a crown, with a pillowcase outstretched towards the Cairo queen.

"Rrraaaahhh..." he uttered. "I be Lord Decay, King of the Mummies. Beware-"

SLAM. "Sorry, we're closed." Shannon shut her eyes, slamming the metal door with her elbow on the 'shut' button.

Robot picked himself from the floor and massaged the sides of his light bulb. "Was that really necessary?"

"The Royal Butt Wipe got us into this mess in the first place," she said with her arms folded. "Let him have a moment to suffer."

They heard Socks begin to anxiously beat on the door and scratch and scrape at it with his nails like a cat. Robot lowered his eyelids. Already, he was beginning to lose his patience that night. "Please open the door for him."

After Robot's polite request, and a series of anxious doorbell rings, Shannon sighed obnoxiously and pushed the button to open the door once again. She was met by a stern-faced Socks. He walked in with raised shoulders, appearing to have a challenged dignity, turned and pointed at her as she shut the door behind him, trying to look like the speechless glare he was making was of all-real hate. She looked at him and took in his menacing look without heed, shaking her head to herself as soon as he walked away.

"Sorry I'm late. Robutt, you guys ready?"

"I suppose," he said, grabbing his donation box.

"Where's Mitch and Cubey?" asked Shannon.

"Did somebody call for Jekyll," Mitch said, popping out from behind a bush, "or, Mr. Hyde?" he turned his head, revealing the right side of his face to be painted bright green, with obnoxiously flamed out hair to match.

"Mitch?" Socks asked. "What's up with your hair?"

"I think I used a bit too much Aqua-net on him," Cubey said, rolling himself forward. "On the bright side, you'll stand out at the a party."

Quite the contrast, Cubey's black hair was pulled back tight against his skull, with a little triangle of black marker in the middle of his forehead to give him a widow's peak. He wore a loose, long sleeved black suit and a red cape that at standing height hung just half a foot from the ground.

But Socks was the show off. "So, what do you dudes think of my costume?"

Shannon blinked. "Is that... toilet paper?"

"Two ply, no lie," he smirked.

Shannon slowly set her donation box down on the floor. "Okay, okay, hold the phone," she said. "I agreed to go all out and dress up as a character to pair up with you JUST SO YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH WEARING TOILET PAPER!"

"Would you chill?" he said. "I'm not stupid... I'm wearing underwear."

"Isn't two-ply, like, two dollars a roll?" Mitch asked.

"Eegh, dollar and a quarter," he said, rubbing his arms shyly. "I like the softer kind."

"So much for being inexpensive."

"That's it, I'm changing!" Shannon said. "I'm not going if my costume partner is running around the streets in his underwear!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'm too embarrassing to be seen with," Socks shouted back at her, "Oh great Queen Nano-Titty!"

Shannon whipped him hard with her empty pillowcase. "Hey!" Socks yelped, grabbing his stinging arm.

"Come on, you two!" Robot said, "The faster we collect this money, the faster we'll be back at the party."

They stuck their tongues out at each other, and the doorbell rang again. Robot was the one to answer it this time. When he opened the door, Robot saw the fruit of his labor. His makeshift costumes for Mitch and Cubey didn't look so bad in the dark.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet," Mitch said in sing-song voice. "Dude, what are you supposed to be?" referring to Socks.

"I'd rather not talk about it..." Socks looked away.

"You know there's going to be, like, forty of you mummy guys running around," Cubey pointed out.

"Ah, yeah," Socks grinned, "and it's a good thing then that I've Christened myself Mummy Lord,"

"Don't you need a guy in a robe for that?" Mitch whispered to Cubey.

"And isn't it going to be raining tonight?" Robot asked.

"Great..." Socks sighed.

"You're really going to be crying Mummy, Socks." Mitch snickered. "Just like the year-"

"If I have to stand here and listen to one more terrible pun, "Shannon protested, "I'm going to flip!"

"Affirmative," Robot confirmed with Shannon. "We need to start our route if we have any chance at collecting the grand total amount of currency by midnight and arrive at Roger's party before it ends."

"Fine," the group sighed collectively, somberly wandering out the door.

When Robot's door slammed shut behind Socks, the end of his trailing costume got caught between the doors and ripped off the lower half of his leg. Socks spun around. "Aw, come on!"

"There's no time to fix it, just move," Shannon called back to him.

Socks, now with a bare leg, shivered and ran off after them.

* * *

 **The puns are so bad, they're going to charge me.**

 ** _Whatever Happened to Robot Jones?_ © Greg Miller & Cartoon Network**


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had almost completely set to a dark navy by the time the four awkward boys and the ill-tempered girl stood outside of a house with a black, wire railing on a white porch, holding their bags out. While they waited for someone to answer the door, Socks nudged Mitch's shoulder. "You think looking more pathetic will get us more money?"

"Not unless they think the charity's for you," Mitch snickered.

The sun had almost completely set to a dark navy by the time the four awkward boys and the ill-tempered girl stood outside of a house with a black, wire railing on a white porch, holding their bags out. While they waited for someone to answer the door, Socks nudged Mitch's shoulder. "You think looking more pathetic will get us more money?"

"Not unless they think the charity's for you," Mitch snickered.

"Maybe we'll have enough left over by the end of the night to buy you another roll of costume," Shannon commented, still glowering at him.

Robot started: "Well, subconsciously speaking, people tend to give more when-"

"Shush, I hear footsteps!" Cubey whispered.

A shadow appeared in front of the light behind the fogged glass decoration of the door.

"Trick-or-treat," they said in unison, unenthusiastically, as it opened.

A girl with a dishwater-brown ponytail and a striped dress peeked out. She stood just at four-and-a-half feet, and looked and sounded to be about nine. "Aren't you guys a little old to be trick or treating."

"We're more or less doing this for the charity thing," Cubey said, holding out his UNICEF box.

"Oh, I see," the girl said, trying and failing to sound impressed. She looked from Cubey to Socks. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I be Lord—oh, what's the point?" he asked himself. "Look, I'm sultan of the mummies, all right?"

Cubey whispered to Mitch. "I thought he was a King."

"I though he was a Lord!" Shannon shouted, indignantly.

"I thought he was a zombie," Robot said, sounding the most legitimately confused.

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes. "Hang on, I'll get my mom," she told them.

As she headed for the living room, another little girl appeared—much smaller than the first, and with a mouth covered in chocolate, and her hand in a black bowl of colorful, wrapped treats. She glanced out the door and screamed. "MOMMY!"

She kicked Socks in the shin—he let out a wail.

"There are grown-ups outside, asking for candy!" she said, running back into the house.

With his best friend clutching his kneecap in the surprisingly tough blow, the Franken-robot sighed, resting his eyes at half-closed as the door slammed in front of them.

"Are we really that old looking?" Shannon asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her homemade costume in a way that she hadn't before.

"To little kids, maybe," Cubey said confidently. Then in a sudden display of doubt, started trying to stand on his tippy toes with his skates.

"Well, that house was a bust," Mitch announced, starting to leave the steps. "If we scared their kid, they ain't forking over anything. The others quietly followed, except for Robot, who was the last to step off the veranda.

"Don't worry, guys. We have a whole night ahead of us."

"Don't remind us," Shannon replied under her breath.

* * *

Shannon had a right to be pessimistic. The kids began to see a pattern with every house they visited. The parents or kids who answered the door were either skeptical about why a couple of middle schoolers were doing trick or treating without any younger kids with them, and refused to give them anything, or they would receive a meager piece of candy in exchange for an apology that they had 'left their wallet in their other pants' or 'didn't carry any singles.' At one really expensive looking house, the latter claim was made by the dad who answered, and Socks found the gall to ask if the dad would then consider dropping a twenty dollar bill into their still nearly empty box, at which point the dad slammed the door in their face, muttering something about them being scammers. Of course, what reason did they have to believe that the money would go to an actual charity? What stopped them from ripping open the box and taking the approximate two dollars and eighty three cents-Robot had visually calculated the donations before it went into the slot on top of the box-for themselves? But none of the door greeters would hear of what reason they had to be out there that evening, in those ridiculous costumes, asking for money for kids less fortunate than them.

And almost every stranger's house they visited had to comment on why the kid on the far left had decided to dress as a horrid mash of a robot and Frankenstein's Monster.

Shannon even found herself towards the kids this money was supposed to help. This was an intense amount of humiliation to go through so that some kid in another country could eat some more. But like the boys, the most of her anger was directed at Madman, who had set them up with this terrible ultimatum in the first place. As the humans grew vocally more annoyed as the night carried on, however, Robot grew quieter. While there were one or two compliments paid towards his "clever mashing" of costumes, the ones that were more insulting were starting to stick with him. It was only Socks who noticed that Robot's optimistic comments were growing fewer and father between, and he frowned, not in spite of himself, but for his friend.

They had crossed many neighborhoods in the time it took for the sky to turn from navy to pitch black, to arrive at one where the tall boards of the white picket fences were so neatly placed by each other that the kids couldn't see between them. The kids could only see the lawns of the ten-room houses from a distance. Up close, they could only see the second floors and the roofs.

"These people _gotta_ have money," Cubey said.

"But how are we supposed to get to the door?" Socks asked, squinting and getting on tiptoe as he stood by the fence. But even his and Shannon's heights didn't let them see over the fence. It had to be ten feet tall, at least. "Figures that rich people are so paranoid about people breaking in that they'd board up their own fancy houses."

The kids walked along the fence of the house at the end of that cul-de-sac, their feet flat on the immaculate lawn surrounding the home, like walking across the football field back at Polyneux. There was a thicket of trees in the back and front, too thick to pass through. It was beginning to really feel like there wasn't an entrance to this house at all.

Robot hyper-extended his neck so that he himself could see over the top. "There must be a door to the fence," Robot reminded them-the first thing he'd said in over a half hour.

"You don't know that," Mitch joked, "For all we know, these guys helicopter onto the roof."

Robot's eyes zoomed outward as he identified an imperfection in the fence which marked a door, and upon looking closer, the door was latched. "I see a door, but it's the one leading out of the backyard."

"So what? Doesn't matter as long as the people inside don't know we used the back to get in."

"Do these kinds of people even _do_ Halloween?" said Cubey. "I mean, if you lived from around here, your parents could just buy you all the candy you wanted."

Shannon squinted her eyes up at one of the windows on the second floor. "Their lights are on. And I think I hear some sort of music too. If they're throwing a party, they can't refuse to open the door to us."

"Then we've gotta get to the door." Socks said, stopping abruptly. "Robot, do you think you can fly up over the fence and open the latch?"

"Certainly I _can_ ," Robot said, beginning to rub his claws together nervously. "But don't you believe that is unwise? I mean, it appears to be a private party, and hopping the fence is listed as breaking and entering, even if our intentions are innocent."

"So you can't do it?" Socks asked, looking shocked. All the humans present seemed a little surprised.

"I _can_ ," he started, tentatively, "but I _won't,_ " Robot emphasized, folding his arms. He was trying so very hard to remain optimistic in the face of all that was working against them, but breaking rules was crossing the line.

"Fine then," Socks sighed. He would have been angry, but because he'd known Robot for a while and was taught that units were obligated to follow rules to a T, he had to understand Robot putting his foot down. And after his sudden quietness from all those rude comments, he still felt bad for his robotic companion. "Cubey, would you get up on my shoulders and try to hop the fence?"

"Whatever," Cubey replied, muttering. "Beats standing out here in the cold arguing." Socks got down on his knees and let Cubey stand on his shoulders, grunting as he stood, trying to hold the shorter boy without losing his balance. Shannon, in the meantime, had felt a knot-hole in the fence about eye level to her, in which she could punch a small hole and peer inside.

"You see the door?" Socks asked through gritted teeth, the skates digging hard into his shoulders.

"Got it. Be back in a sec," Cubey announced, grabbing the ends of the fence and throwing himself over, instantly relieving Socks of the pressure. There was a thud and a scream. "OW!"

Socks leaned his ear by the fence, while the other kids rushed over, fearing a broken bone. "Cubey, you OK?"

"I got a huge splinter in my hand!" Cubey wailed.

"Hurry and open the door and we'll get Robot to pluck it out for you," Mitch shouted.

Robot's eyes darted back and forth from the white fence, where he only then remembered he could see Cubey with his X-ray vision, and to Shannon, who was still peering through the fence with her knot-hole. At once, both of them saw what Cubey had not. "Guys," Shannon said, nervously. "I don't think Cubey's alone in there."

Her words drove an icy spear through Cubey's heart, as he turned away from the other side of the fence, and saw a Doberman staring down at him, barely hidden in the shadow of the house. And the dog looked angry.

Cubey scrambled to his feet and began beating on the fence with his fists. "Guys, guys, get me out of here!"

"Cubey, don't bang on the fence, it'll only make him madder! Go for the door!" Mitch shouted.

"No!" Shannon shouted back. "He'll let the dog out! And besides, he won't make it across the lawn!"

"Help me!" Cubey said, shrieking as he began to zoom back and forth, the dog running for him all over the lawn, but never quite catching up to the boy on the skates. The lawn was so short and even that Cubey's skates zoomed across like concrete, which was the only reason he seemed to evade the dog's reach.

Robot extended his arms over the fence and used his X-ray vision to point them at Cubey's direction. "Cubey, take my hands!"

Cubey made a dive for Robot's long arms but missed, and the dog latched on to the left one, instead. Robot gasped and shook off the canine to the point that it had become furious. Cubey again ran for the side of the fence where his friends stood on the opposite side. "It's a guard dog!" Cubey panted." He's gonna eat me alive!"

"I'm coming for you, man!" Mitch called, unceremoniously using a very miffed Shannon as a springboard so that he could reach the top of the fence himself. Looking down at the lawn from the top, the green-painted lad watched his vampire friend trip over his cape, which had finally become caught in the wheels of his skates. Mitch reached out a hand to him, and this time, Cubey made it, but so did the dog-which bit down on Cubey's cape at the same time that Cubey's hand hit Mitch's. Cubey wailed out in pain as the combined weight of him and the dog pulled Mitch up and over the fence, so that both boys were trapped on the wrong side.

Shouts from the inside of the house alerted the kids to the approach of the party-goers. The dog's barks and shouting kids must have penetrated the barrier of the music. "Adults are coming!" Socks said with worry. Now he wished he'd just taken Robot's 'no' and left this house alone.

By this time, Robot had forgot the rules of respecting private property in the face of a new set of rules: the ones that ordered him to protect human health at all cost to himself and all other rules. He used his super strength to break down the wood boards of the fence until he could see his friends without X-ray vision, as they scrambled towards the house, away from the dog, and made a circle back to the new hole in the fence. Two boards was enough to get Cubey through easily, but Mitch was still too big. Robot began breaking the third board, but Mitch had to take off running again as the dog neared for another attack. This time Socks decided to be brave and assist Robot in breaking down the third board, instead of pacing back and forth. He breathed heavily, feeling an asthma attack coming on, as he and Robot pushed the board with all of their strength, but it wouldn't budge. The kids heard a door open in the distance and all at once, knew they were in big trouble. Mitch pushed the board as the kids on the other side pulled. But for some reason this board was impossible to move, even with Robot's strength.

Shannon shoved the boys back and shouted at Mitch to move out of the way. And with all her might, she kicked the board in half, cracking it down the middle so that Robot and and Socks could pull the two broken pieces away from the top and bottom. Mitch scrambled through as soon as they were cleared, and the adult began to shout about burglars and frightening the daylights out of his dog.

The five of them ran as fast as they could, putting many distance between themselves and the peeved man, who had crawled through the broken fence and ran for them for quite a while. But even though the kids had been walking around all night, they had found the energy to keep going long after the man had quit and gone home to call the police. They were at least five blocks away when they hid behind a tree and stopped to breathe.

"Do you... think asking them for donations is still out of the question?" Socks asked, shuffling for his inhaler. But because he had no pockets, it wasn't on him tonight. Good thing he wasn't having a true asthma attack.

"That is the most unfunny thing you've said all night!" Shannon shouted at him.

"Hey, I'm only trying to lighten the mood!" Socks said back.

"Look at my cape," Cubey said, spinning around. "And my pants," he said, moving the cape as to show the kids the hole in his pants where the dog had not only ate through the cape, but straight through to his checkered boxers.

Shannon averted her eyes. "Ew. Did we really need to see that?"

"What time is it now?" Mitch asked, switching the topic.

"Eight thirty seven," Robot said.

"After all that," Cubey said, smacking his glasses-less face. "And we're more short-handed than we started!"

The kids had all had bags to hold their consolation candy, from the houses that claimed to not be able to donate cash, but they had forgotten them back by the white-picket fence. Robot, who didn't see a point in taking candy for himself, had held onto the only donation box that had collected any cash. He produced it from a compartment in his chest. "Well, we still have the money."

"But what now?" asked Socks. "If our own neighbors didn't give us much, and we can't even _get_ to the rich houses, how are we supposed to be able to do this?"

"I... well..." Robot stammered, staring at his box of pitiful quarters and few dollars nervously.

Cubey was the first to admit it. "Face it, guys. Nobody is handing out squat. We're done! We're through!"

"Heh, maybe the people back at the party will have pity on us?" Socks asked with a nervous chuckle. Like Shannon, he was tired, but he was really hoping to go to the party.

"You want to trick or treat an eighth grader's party for charity?" asked Mitch. "What's your preferred method of torture? Titty-Twister or Wedgie?"

"He's right, Socks," Cubey said. "We're only asking for a pounding if we admit we've been trick or treating. Especially for Madman."

"We are not caving in yet," Robot said with determination. Though truthfully, he wanted to. The negativity of the evening that he'd been trying to ignore was building up inside of him, to the point where he didn't care about the party or Madman's threats. He wanted to go home. But he kept remembering the humiliation back at Madman's office, the frustration at the inability to prove they had been framed for stealing the school's most prized Award Banner and setting it on fire, and the practically impossible ask of either collecting this money himself, or being remembered as the one who cased the requirement every eighth grade class to collect a certain amount of donation money or not graduate. And something inside him was so set on overcoming the odds and proving to everyone that he wasn't a loser. Even though Socks had been the one to first suggest that they actually go through with Madman's ridiculous idea, it was Robot who was determined to see through that they completed it, if only to see the look on Madman's face when they told him that they'd done it.

"Then what do you suppose we do?" asked Shannon. Her makeup was smudge from all the running and sweating, and the plastic snake-head hung loose against her wig.

Robot tapped his chin. "There is, of course, Groove Street, and Funk Drive, and Grunge Bolvevard. And there's that new business district. Those neighborhoods don't have as much money, but they've got some."

"Earth to Frankenbolts," interrupted Shannon. "Those neighborhoods are miles apart from each other."

"Then we have no choice but to split up," he told her. "Socks, you got to Groove, Mitch to Funk, Cubey to Grunge," he said, pulling a hallographic projection of the map up for them to see. "I'll go to the business district. Shannon, you stay here and knock on the remaining houses."

"Why does _she_ get to stay?" asked Cubey, dreading the walk ahead of him.

"Because she was dragged onto this unwillingly," Robot reminded them. "It's our last shot. Otherwise we'll be walking into Madman's office on Monday virtually empty handed. I can't guarantee that he'll let us off the hook if we collect under five hundred," Robot said as he shut the donation box into his chest again, "But he just might be content if we get enough."

"Let's go then. It's starting to give me the creeps out here," said Socks, looking worried as more trick or treaters and their parents called it an evening and left the streets empty.

The other four made vaguely agreeing noises, then sulkingly headed off in twos towards their own individual destinations. While Socks and Shannon headed west, and Cubey and Mitch headed East, Robot headed north, all by himself. Not long into their walk, Mitch whispered into Cubey's ear: "I'm just glad nobody we know at school has run into us dressed like this."

While this comment should have been silent to anybody but Cubey, it was overheard by a pair of pale yellow eyeballs, peering out of the bushes, following by a glassy blue pair that appeared beside it. Denny and Lenny overhead the conversation. And Lenny was snickering. "This has been easier than I thought. I don't even have to lift a finger."

"But Robot seems pretty determined," Denny commented. "What if they actually do get a lot of the money Madman was asking for?"

"Don't worry—I made a plan B in just such an event. We just need to make sure they hit the party soon."

* * *

 **Whatever Happened to Robot Jones? © Greg Miller & Cartoon Network**


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